


Coping

by Galahard



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Character Death, M/M, This fic got away from me a bit, You guys ask for it all the time, You guys probably have no idea how much I hate writing smut because I do it all the time, but then again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3451046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galahard/pseuds/Galahard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Tumblr prompt tl;dr: Smutty H/C first time Hartwin</p>
<p>Thanks for reading! I'm Galahard on tumblr too and I love hearing from you guys on either site!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Coping

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt tl;dr: Smutty H/C first time Hartwin
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm Galahard on tumblr too and I love hearing from you guys on either site!

Roxy had been waiting for them, nose and cheeks bright red as she joined them on the plane. He smiled at her, the expression a bit more genuine than the smiles he'd given Merlin and the princess, and they'd settled back to trade tales.

It was easy to see how this could be their life for decades. Separating for different missions, saving the world from varying angles, kicking back with a drink and swapping stories.

Life as a Kingsman could be good. Exciting for certain, challenging. Something to make his father proud. To make him proud. 

Something to focus on other than the grief that gnawed at him like JB with a rawhide.

\----------

Despite the fact that they had saved the world there was no time for a break. The only positive thing that happened with the fact that they knew everyone whose head had not exploded hadn't betrayed them, and Arthur hadn't managed to reach many. One had splattered his brain matter across a safe house on his property, and Percival they managed to track down after 37 hours. Poisoned. 

It was for him they drank a toast.

He made the transition from disgraced proposal to Galahad with barely a mention. Merlin had simply handed him a manila folder with the codename typed on it, his first official mission, and life kept going.

Crime kept going, regardless of whether or not he had felt like getting out of bed. It didn't seem to care if he spent so long in the shower that the water turned icy because he couldn't seem to gather the energy to turn the handle and get out. People still died whether or not he sat on the edge of his bed, debating if his pistol would be better off taking out a crime syndicate or pressed to his temple.

Even if it was for a split second maybe he would understand how Harry felt.

Everything just seemed slightly dulled. Tarnished. As if whatever he was viewing was through fogged glass. He only truly felt alive when he was caught up in a mission, when for just a few hours he could forget about Harry because he was in the midst of real danger, bullets flying as he tossed grenades into criminal ridden rooms.

But he was aware things were off. Knew he wasn't himself. Years of living with Dean had trained him for this. Had taught him how to put on a smile and act as if nothing was wrong. How to go to a pub with Roxy and sip at a beer without her suspecting a thing. How to answer all the questions posed his way so that his psych tests showed everything was normal, everything was fine. Because if he didn't have Kingsman he wouldn't have anything. 

Kingsman was his last tie to Harry.

\------------

He hadn't slept well since the incident, passing out when he was exhausted just to toss fitfully for a few hours. Enough sleep to function, the natural lines of his face hiding some of his fatigue, but nothing particularly restful. It was one of the rare times that he was truly asleep, so his phone blaring, the special ringtone for the red alert line, jolted him out of sleep.

His pistol was in hand and JB was barking frantically when he managed to answer the call, pressing it to his ear as he moved over to the wall by the window, not wanting to give any potential threats a clear shot.

"He's alive."

Merlin's words washed over him, and for a moment all he could process was confusion. “Huh?”

“Harry’s alive.”

His breath caught and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t acknowledge Merlin or call bullshit or even demand to know if this was a prank.

“I heard this morning but I didn’t want to call until I laid eyes on him myself. Eggsy, Harry is alive.”

His exhale of breath was noisy in his own ears as he pressed the phone closer, already reaching for a jacket to pull on, zipping it up without bothering to put a shirt underneath. Voice cracking he managed to get a word out, still not trusting the voice on the other end of the line. “Explain.”

“As best as I can figure someone must have picked him up and taken him to the hospital. In ICU he probably was spared most of the violence for what Valentine managed to send out because there were limited cell phones on the floor he was on. When he woke up he managed to give them a code name which pinged our systems. The American branch extracted him and sent him here, and he’s only just arrived. He’s still heavily drugged so he hasn’t woken up yet, but I thought you should know.”

Merlin’s voice was steady in his ear, as steady as it was on any mission, and that helped him focus as he pulled on his trainers and made his way out the door. His patch of London was quiet this time of early morning, and he saw one person across the street as he made his way toward the tailor shop. “I’ll be there soon,” he promised, focused on one objecting, and one only.

“I don’t know when he’ll wake up Eggsy. It could be a day or more. There’s no need to come in straight away. Get your beauty sleep.”

“I’m on my way.”

If Merlin kept protesting Eggsy didn’t hear him, already halfway to the Kingsman shop. Harry. Alive.

The gaping hole in his chest was starting to be patched with a thread of hope.

\-----------

This was the second time he’d seen Harry in a hospital bed, and he wanted it to be the last. A tube ran from his mouth to a breathing apparatus, an IV was jammed into one hand, and the beeps and hums of the machinery, which somewhat reassuring in their steadiness, were still enough to almost drive him crazy.

Merlin hadn’t expected him to arrive so soon, had tried to get him to wait as Harry likely wouldn’t awaken for hours yet, but Eggsy had no intention of leaving him. Harry was alive. A fractured skull, and no one knew what sort of brain damage he might have from the bruising that had been reported, but he was alive. Even if he woke up believing he was the undercover identity he’d given the doctors Eggsy could work with that.

The chairs in the medical rooms were padded but not exactly comfortable, designed to be sterile and for visits, not for someone to sit in for hours and hours. He’d managed to actually nod off once or twice, he really wasn’t sure, and when someone came in to double check Harry’s vital signs they brought him back a coffee. It was black when normally he preferred to dump sugar in it, but the bitterness flooding his taste buds woke him up more than the caffeine could have.

So he was mostly alert when Harry’s eyelids moved, slowly blinking open as he stared at the ceiling. He stood, chair skidding back, eyes focused on Harry’s face and meeting his eyes when they slid over to. Harry’s gaze paused, latching onto him, then slid away, his eyes closing once again.

“Harry?” His voice wavered in the air, but the older man’s eyes stayed closed, surrendered to sleep. Anxiety gripped him. There had been no sign of recognition, nothing to suggest that he had paused his gaze to look at Eggsy more than any human figure he might come across. Harry had woke up, but nothing had really changed.

\----------

He left Harry’s side only to go to the loo, grabbing a fresh cup of coffee with several teaspoons of sugar ladled in, so he was there when Harry’s eyes opened the second time. He got up more slowly this time, not letting his hopes rise too much, approaching the bed carefully. Still, he couldn’t keep the hope from flooding his voice, the slightly desperate edge to it not something he could control. “Harry?”

Eyes met his. Blinked. Continued to lock gazes with him. Then he noticed fingers moving, trying to find the call button on the remote they had left next to his hand, and Eggsy darted forward, punching the button fro him, calling in the professional that would have at least a faint clue as to what to do for him.

He stepped back when someone pushed him aside, sinking into his chair and practically invisible as two doctors or nurses took over. Half the time he couldn’t see Harry, could only hear the medical jargon filling the air and the yes or no questions they were asking his mentor, but he still didn’t look away when Merlin joined him, the magician standing beside his chair wordlessly, typing occasional notes into his clipboard.

Finally one doctor stepped back, leaving the other to make the last fussy touches to the sensors as she turned to face Merlin. “Agent” her eyes darted to Eggsy, and now Eggsy realized the confusion that him taking on Galahad’s name would bring. “The agent,” the doctor amended, “is responsive. He seems to know who he is and could react to basic yes or no questioning. His throat will be sore from tube that has been running down his throat so we cannot recommend that you ask him anything that will require him to speak excessively. We will send down someone immediately with broth so we can start working on his recovery, so please try to keep him awake until then and limit your interrogation.”

“Thank you Morgana,” Merlin said, tipping his head to her before approaching the bed. Eggsy was on his heels, craning his neck to see Harry just a bit better, a bit sooner.

His eyes had a slightly glassy sheen to them, the drugs still flooding his system, but as Merlin ran through his own series of basic yes or no questions he was able to answer, croaking out his name and date of birth, words slurred ever so slightly. He could see the point of Merlin’s questions as they edged ever closer to present day, finally reaching the church.

“For what reason did you massacre an entire church full of people in Kentucky?” The question was brutal, and Harry closed his eyes, not looking at either of them when they reopened.

“Valentine sent out waves via his sim cards,” he managed, and Merlin nodded. It was enough of an answer to know that he knew, and there was no real purpose in having him work his throat any more than it had been. It was also enough for Eggsy to let out a long breath, one he’d held without really realizing it.

Harry was still himself.

A nurse came in, balancing a bowl on a tray, but this time he refused to be sent back to his chair. He perched on the edge of the bed, watching Harry swallow down a few spoonfuls before he shook his head slightly and shut his eyes.

He only moved when someone brought in a cot and informed him that if he didn’t sleep that Merlin had given them orders to drug him.

\-----------

“Eggsy.”

His head snapped up quickly enough that whiplash was an actual concern, staring at Harry and watching Harry calmly meet his eyes in return as he pressed a button on the remote, the bed slowly tilting his torso until he was almost sitting up.

“I’d rather expected you to be out saving the world,” Harry added, words still slurring just a bit while he lifted his hand as if he was scratching his chin. Eggsy wasn’t fooled, he could see the way he was feeling the hair on his face, trying to gauge how long he’d been asleep.

“Did enough of that in the first month,” he offered. “Still fucked up out there but ain’t too much I can do that someone else can’t. You’re the one wasting your fucking vacation days.” It was surprisingly easy to talk to Harry. There was none of the calculated answers his mind raced to think of, none of the constant fear that someone might figure out how fucked up he was in his head. 

He hadn’t missed how Harry had cringed when he said a month, but for his mentor’s sake he avoided mentioning it. “You fucked up Harry. If you’d just waited another week you could’ve risen on Easter.” It was a pathetic offering, but he could almost see Harry latching onto the information, trying to piece together what he could without outright asking for the answers.

“I do apologize for the disappointment,” Harry offered, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly as he closed his eyes, relaxing back into the pillows. 

“Shit. Harry? Don’t go to sleep yet they wanted you to eat. Harry? Are you? Shit.”

\-----------

The next time Harry woke up Eggsy was ready, hitting send on a text to the nurses before he even opened his mouth. While he had been asleep Eggsy had managed to track down a daily calendar with fairly large numbers, posting it in easy viewing distance so that Harry wouldn’t have to ask. March 24th.

Harry was fairly silent, probably trying to orient himself somewhat, and Eggsy wasn’t about to push him. It was a pleasure merely to watch him think and move, the sound of Harry’s throat being cleared a gift.

The tray arrived and the nurse manipulated a table from the side of the bed so that the tray could rest in front of him. “Sir? Are you alright by yourself?”

He could see Harry’s fingers twitching by the remote as Harry looked at the nurse and smiled at him. “I’m sure I’ll manage. Thank you.”

The nurse nodded and stood back, but didn’t leave the room, watching to make sure that Harry ate. Eggsy could see muscles flexing, signals being sent to Harry’s hand, and there was an aborted movement that brought his wrist closer to his body but obviously not where the agent had intended it to go. The nurse started forward and Harry glowered at him. “I said I’ll manage,” he insisted.

Eggsy reached out from his chair, putting his hand on the man’s wrist. “We’ve got it. Thanks.” He grinned disarmingly, charm dialed up as high as he could managed, and the nurse looked a bit startled before backing out the door with a few frantic nods.

He waited until the door was closed before he stood, walking slowly toward the bed and ignoring Harry’s narrowing eyes. He’d seen the way the bed worked and was able to lower the bars on the side ensuring that a patient wouldn’t fall off the bed in their sleep, and he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I did mean that I would manage,” Harry pointed out, and he managed to put his hand on the tray. It was obvious that while there was some function in his arm the finer motor skills would be out of the question, and he was still on a diet of broth.

It actually hurt a little that it was so easy to scoop up the bowl and spoon without being stopped, but Eggsy was trying not to let that show. Harry was here, that was the important part. And what he had read about TBI survivors had spoken about there being a recovery period that could last up to two years.

If he could survive over a month believing Harry to be dead two years of having him alive but not up to full speed would be nothing.

“Shut up,” he said, eyeing the broth with miniscule pieces of probably carrot and potentially chicken almost suspiciously. “If you don’t eat Merlin’ll probably kill me. Or worse, send me out on some bullshit mission to seduce the world’s oldest woman. Ain’t worth it for me, so you’re eating this shit.” As he spoke he got out a spoonful, trying to keep steady as he transported it to the older man’s mouth.

There was little for Harry to do other than swallow it, but he did it deliberately, almost as if to prove he could. It took a moment for Eggsy to realize he was staring at Harry’s throat as his muscles worked to swallow the broth, and when his eyes flicked up it was to see Harry watching him. Calculating. Waiting.

Quickly he got out another spoonful, because keeping Harry preoccupied with soup was easier than giving him time to think about how he fixated on any sign of life that Harry could offer him.

\----------

It was another day before Roxy was sent in to extract him from Harry’s side. Harry was already showing signs of improvement, his stubborn nature meaning that when he was awake he was constantly working to move his toes and stretch his arms, trying to remind his muscles what they were meant to do.

Kingsman normally tackled missions on their own, but there were opportunities for collaboration, or sometimes it became apparent that one person wasn’t going to fit the right profile and they had to switch to a plan B. This was one of the later, because while the bouncer at the club they were trying to work their way into would let pretty much anyone in that was sex on legs, Roxy had accidentally offended him by mentioning that she liked a certain band as she tried to get into the club, and he wasn’t the type to forget. She’d been rebuffed three times already and they were running out of time.

“One last time,” she said over the headset, “you need to tell the bartender with the nametag Sacha that you want a sex on the beach that’s been ridden hard and put away wet.”

“One last time, that is the fucking worst code I’ve ever heard. Couldn’t you go with something with a bit of class?”

“How dare you even suggest I chose it. Just get to work already.” Her voice was teasing, and it was a nice change from Merlin in his ear. He found himself smiling without even faking it, winking at the bouncer as he reached the front of the line and getting in with barely a second glance.

He took his time getting over to the bar. It wasn’t all the suspicious to head straight there, but it would be awkward if he got to the bar, got the wrong bartender, and left just to try to hit up a different one. Sacha seemed to be fairly busy, working the center, and he was obviously skilled. The other bartenders and him worked at ease with each other, tossing bottles back and forth more for convenience and speed than show.

Roxy groused at him for taking a while but, every complaint seemed to have an accompanying note about someone in the general area, her cutting humour making it hard not to grin like a lunatic as he sauntered toward the bar, joining the small throng of people that were trying to press their way to the front to order their drinks. He knew how people worked though, and it wasn’t long before he was the one ordering.

He’d still swear up and down that the drink order was absolute shit, but it got him what he asked for. A cocktail with an umbrella.

He drank it as he meandered away from the bar, plucking out the little umbrella and pocketing it without really taking a look at it, the slight weight to it enough to let him know the signal had been both received and acknowledged.

The drink was better than he’d expected, and he downed half of it before leaving it on a table and slipping out the door. The car pulled up as he neared the sidewalk and the door opened, Roxy scooting over on the seat as he got in and the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

“Did you see the thirsty look that other bartender had when you ordered?” she asked, eyes sparkling as he took out the umbrella. “I really thought she might knock Sacha out of the way and give you just what you asked for.”

He glared at her but couldn’t keep it up, breaking into a grin. “You fucking owe me Lance.” He flipped the umbrella open, carefully peeling back the tape and handing over the micro SD. Roxy was ready, putting the card in the converter and starting the upload from her phone as he slipped the umbrella back into his pocket. 

“Half a favor, max. That was the easiest mission you’ve ever had to do, I already did all the work. Want to stop by somewhere and get a drink?”

“Nah,” he answered, settling back into the seat. “I need to get back to HQ.”

He didn’t have to look at her to know that she was giving him that calculated look of hers. Everyone else seemed to have them, and he got be on the receiving end of them often enough that he didn’t even care anymore.

\----------

Harry didn’t say anything about the umbrella in his protein smoothie, but he did raise an eyebrow and slide a look over to him. He grinned cheekily, and it actually hurt a little bit because of how much he’d been grinning that day. Even that sobering fact couldn’t make him stop. “It’s fucking dull in here,” he offered. “Thought about asking Merlin if I could bring Mr. Pickles in to cheer the place up but I heard he was looking for someone to send to Austria.”

From the bed Harry frowned at him, but the effect was lost somewhat as he took a drink from the smoothie. Harry Hart with a straw, something that should look funny, but watching his cheeks hollow as he sucked did things to Eggsy that were decidedly not amusing. He cleared his throat, hoping Harry wouldn’t know the crimson splotches staining his cheeks.

“If there is a mission in Austria they need you for you should take it. I can manage here.”

It was probably true. Already Harry was able to hold a cup and drink from a straw without splashing everywhere, and his words slurred only if he got to the point of exhaustion. He’d even been out of bed for a shower while Eggsy had been gone, supported but getting there and back on his own two feet.

Still, Eggsy couldn’t bare to think of it. A few hours away hadn’t been a big deal. Harry had been asleep for longer stretches of time, and while he regretted not seeing Harry get out of the bed he’d been back by his bedside after several hours. Days away? The thought panicked him, but he couldn’t let anyone know how much. Merlin would probably put him on some sort of psych evaluation. And Harry? Harry couldn’t find out.

He just couldn’t.

“Don’t think I fit the profile,” he said smoothly, the lie floating off his tongue, but Harry was giving him a look, and he was pretty sure the older agent suspected he wasn’t telling the truth. Or at the very least not all of it.

“Oh shit, I almost forgot. I downloaded a couple of flicks so we’d have something to do without the doctors going bloody insane about you pushing yourself too hard.”

A little over an hour later he was glued to his tablet, oblivious as Harry fell asleep beside him. A soft press of heat to his side as Richard Gere took Julia Roberts on a shopping trip like she’d never experienced.

\----------

“Rumour has it you’re cleared to go home tomorrow.”

He leaned against the doorframe, watching Harry clean his pistols after using them at the gun range. The targets were almost perfect, clustered holes in the forehead and heart areas, a single stray bullet veering closer to an eye than dead center. 

“Fucking finally, yeah?”

“I do agree with that sentiment,” Harry said, glancing up as he finished with a piece. “How was Liverpool?”

He shrugged. “Took longer than we thought and the data had some bloody encryption we didn’t know about but Merlin already managed to crack it.”

“Do you have a mission tomorrow?” Harry had gone back to cleaning his other pistol, and Eggsy’s eyes were drawn to his hands, transfixed as he watched them at work. He startled a bit when Harry’s hands stilled, jerking guiltily before shaking his head.

“Nah, Merlin told me to keep Saturday free so I guess I’ve got a couple days.”

Harry nodded as he put the guns back in their holsters. “Good. I’ll need someone to see me home tomorrow, doctor’s orders. I’ll let Merlin know I’m borrowing you.”

\---------

Harry was better. The doctors understandably didn’t want him jumping straight back into action, and there was a slight concern that he might have a relapse though it was entirely unlikely with how speedy his recovery had been. Mostly it had been gaining back the muscle lost in the five or so weeks he’d been a coma.

Eggsy knew that, but still he found himself hesitating in the entryway the next evening, not quite able to simply turn around and walk out the door. Harry was fine. The doctors had cleared him. But if something happened. If Harry was taken from him again. Harry was coming back from the kitchen, having gone in to test to make sure the water was working, and yet his feet were rooted to the floor.

“I guess everything is okay here,” his voice trailed off as he glanced down.

“It does seem to be in order,” Harry agreed.

“Do you--do you want me to sweep the upstairs? Just to make sure everything is safe before I go?” His heart was hammering, an irrational fear starting to set in that maybe if he left it would be the last time he’d see Harry. Leaving him at HQ was one thing, there were cameras and people constantly on watch, but in his own home? There was no way for anyone to know until it was too late.

“Eggsy.”

Slowly he drug his eyes up to eye level, then finally raised them the rest of the way to meet Harry’s as the older agent reached up, setting his hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“I’ll be fine. I can handle whatever happens. I came back didn’t I?”

“You almost didn’t.” His voice cracked, and he hadn’t meant for it to. He didn’t realize he was shaking until Harry was stepping in, pulling him into a hug.

He clung to the older man, and the dam that had been holding everything in burst. “Everything was fucked up,” he whispered, voice broken. “You promised me you was coming back to sort out my mess and the next thing I knew you…” he couldn’t continue, couldn’t bear to even say that he’d thought Harry was dead. “For more than a fucking month,” a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, leaving a hot, itchy path down his cheek. “I couldn’t live without you. I almost...it was loaded.”

Harry’s hand was rubbing soothing circles across his back. “Eggsy,” he murmured, and he could hear the distress merely in that one word. “I’m glad you didn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you.” He forced himself to loosen his grip as Harry pulled back slightly, reaching up to wipe his cheek with his thumb, cradling his face in his hand and looking him dead in the eye. “I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Eggsy found himself nodding, looking down and sniffling. This wasn’t what he meant to happen, he wasn’t supposed to wind up bawling in Harry’s arms, but then Harry’s hand was moving down to find his hand, threading their fingers together.

“It’s been a long day,” Harry murmured. “Why don’t you come upstairs and stay the night, and we’ll discuss this more in the morning before you head home.” Eggsy hesitated for a split second, knowing if he followed Harry upstairs he’d probably never come back down, then he nodded, following him up to the bedroom, hands still linked together.

\--------

Sunlight peeked through the blinds and painted lines of light across his eyes, not his favorite way to wake up, but slightly confusing in its own way. He stretched, opening his eyes to see a clock telling him it was after nine, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept that long. Or waken up feeling so rested.

Then the realization set in that this wasn’t his room, or even his house, nor was this the infirmary. He turned, then had to look up as Harry was sitting up in bed, tablet held in his hands but looking over at him. He stretched again, back popping before he spoke, voice thick with sleep. “Morning.”

“Good morning Eggsy,” Harry’s voice was warm, and it was strangely comfortable here. Like this how he’d woken up for years. He didn’t want to get out from under the covers just yet, and he stifled a yawn, watching Harry through his eyelashes as the older man went back to whatever it was he was reading. Then his eyes settled on something beyond the agent. “Is that tea?”

His voice had an edge of hope to it and the look Harry gave him was between exasperated and fond.

“How forward of you,” he said softly, but he passed the cup over nonetheless. He took it with milk only, so it wasn’t as sweet as Eggsy would have liked, but now that he’d sat up long enough to swallow half the contents he felt a bit perkier. He leaned over Harry, stretching to put the cup back, and then he made the mistake of turning his head.

Harry simply leaned forward, bringing up a hand to pull his face a bit closer, and kissed him.

When he pulled back Eggsy started to lean forward, but the position was too awkward and he found himself pulling back to stare at Harry. Harry set his tablet next to the cup, and that was all the invitation he needed.

He straddled Harry’s hips, settling down to sit in his lap before leaning forward, trying not to think too much as Harry’s met his once again. He explored for a moment, trying to learn how Harry’s lips were different, wanting to know what the older man liked, and for a moment Harry let him. He felt Harry’s hands settle on his thighs through the silk pajama trousers he’d borrowed the night before. He could feel Harry’s lips part, and he licked into his mouth, tracing the edge of his teeth, chasing out the hints of tea lingering in his mouth.

Hands squeezed his thighs gently, and Harry stopped being passive about the kiss and demanded control back. He couldn’t think as Harry tugged on his bottom lip with the teeth he’d been tracing moments before, pressing quick, sharp kisses down his throat. He arched his back, giving Harry as much access as he could as Harry licks and nipped his was to his collarbone.

Lips left his skin and he found himself able to breath, drawing in a shaky breath before teeth skating across his nipple, biting down lightly as a yell filled the room. He wasn’t used to anyone else really playing with his nipples, and somehow Harry setting his teeth to one had the other almost aching to be played with. Eyes closed he lightly raked his blunt nails over it, trying to approximate the feel of Harry’s teeth. When he looked down Harry’s eyes were fixated on his hand, pupils blown. His hips bucked of their own accord at the sight, and he brought up his free hand to bite at his wrist, trying to drown out a moan when Harry looked down.

Harry’s eyes snapped back up, fixating on his mouth. “None of that now Eggsy, if I didn’t want to hear you I’d gag you, and I’d much rather hear you.”

He whimpered at the thought, hips bucking once again, desperate for Harry’s attention. “Promises promises,” he managed, trying to keep it together, and that was destroyed when Harry smiled at him.

“I’ll see what I can do. But lets wait til next time.”

Next time. There would be a next time. 

One hand shot down, trying to press his palm to himself in time, but he was too late and with an embarrassingly loud groan he was cumming his pants like a teenager.

For a moment there was silence, a blush working it’s way up the back of his neck, and then Harry was pulling him forward, kissing him even more ferociously than before. When they finally parted, panting, his lips felt bruised. It was an ache he could get used to, something that he might still feel when he was apart from Harry, and that was what he needed. A reminder to take with him that Harry was still alive. That Harry was still with him.

“I want you to fuck me.”

One of Harry’s hands reached back, grabbing his ass and squeezing, the man apparently on board with this plan, and then he was pulling back, hand dropping away.

“I’m not supposed to perform, hm, high level calisthenics.” His voice was apologetic, and Eggsy wanted to scream, even more so because he knew that Harry was telling the truth, knew the doctors might castrate him if they found out he’d not only let Harry do something so high energy but actually encouraged it.

“I’ll ride you,” he offered, warming up to the idea even as he said it. “Surely they can’t give you too much shit if you just sit back and let me do all the fucking work.”

Harry smirked, nodding. “I do believe you have a point Eggsy. There’s lube in the top drawer of the nightstand.”

He moved over carefully, standing up long enough to dig out the lube and toss the bottle onto the bed before peeling off his pants and trousers. He looked up in time to see Harry lifting his hips and working his own pants down, cock bouncing up as it was freed. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as Harry took the time to loosely fold his pajama trousers, setting them to the side before looking up at him expectantly. 

Eggsy knelt on the bed beside Harry, leaning forward for another kiss as he opened the bottle, messily squirting lube onto his fingers to warm it up. Harry would probably be appalled later when a bit drizzled onto the sheets but he couldn’t be bothered now. They were still kissing as Eggsy pressed the first finger inside himself. Taking one was nothing, and when he pulled out and pushed in again it was with a second finger. That was a stretch, a slightly uncomfortable burn that he was used to. On his own this was normally as far as he went, scissoring and stretching himself open.

It was easy to get caught up in the sensation, forgetting to kiss Harry as he pumped his fingers in and out. “I didn’t meant for you to do it all on your own,” Harry mused, voice quiet but filling the silence accented only by the obscene sound of the fingers disappearing inside himself.

“You’re supposed to fucking relax,” Eggsy argued, grunting as he probed at his opening with a third finger. He pulled out his fingers, sitting up a bit more as he drizzled more lube on his fingers then he leaned back in for a kiss, Harry’s tongue feeling the ridges of the top of his mouth when he pressed his fingers back in. 

He was as prepped as he was going to get, his cock starting to twitch in interest as he looked over at Harry’s cock. At some point Harry had loosely wrapped a hand around himself, stroking leisurely and Eggsy’s mouth flooded, eyes drifting shut at the possibilities. It wasn’t the time for that though, and instead he reached out to bat Harry’s hand away.

He wasn’t cruel enough to squeeze lube directly on Harry, instead pooling it in his palm before slicking Harry up. When he straddled Harry’s hips he couldn’t resist pressing their pricks together, his own barely half hard as he took them both into his fist, rubbing them together for a few strokes before pushing himself up on his knees. He rested one hand on Harry’s chest and reached back for Harry’s cock, lining himself up and about to press down when there was a hand under his chin, raising his gaze to meet Harry’s own.

Slowly he pressed down, biting his lip at the intrusion and letting out a breath when the head of Harry’s cock was in him. He kept lowering himself slowly, and Harry let him take his time, one hand rested on his hip but not pushing him to move faster. It felt like Harry would never end, and finally just set down the rest of the way, back arching as he buried the agent’s cock inside himself.

For a moment he simply breathed until Harry leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re doing so good Eggsy,” he said, voice low but loud enough in the quiet, and he could feel his cock harden slightly the praise. He pushed up, letting himself fall back, impaling himself again, and he was starting to adjust to the stretch.

It still burned slightly, but he was determined, ready to move, ready to make Harry feel good. He rolled his hips experimentally, then again, a bit harder, starting to set a pace before raising up. It didn’t take long until he was bouncing on Harry’s cock, his pace picking up, and then he came down, fully seated on Harry’s cock, and it pressed against him just right. He let his head fall back, groaning, cock hardening rapidly as he repeated the motion.

He was seeking his own pleasure now, his rhythm slightly off as he worked to position Harry’s prick just right, all but writhing on him. He could feel Harry’s hand reach out, wrapping around his own cock and starting to stroke it as his thighs started to ache. He came down again, fully sheathing Harry inside him, and let out a sob as he came again, cock sensitive as Harry stroked him through it.

He couldn’t find the energy in himself to move, but Harry’s hips thrust up several times before he stilled, and he could feel him release inside of him.

After a moment he was able to move over, flopping down onto the bed and trying to catch his breath, feeling Harry reach over, running a hand through his hair before got up. He reappeared quickly enough, sitting down on the edge of the bed by him and wiping him down. It took longer than necessary, Harry’s fingers tracing over lines of his body, outlining a small scar he’d gotten as a teen during a stupid parkour accident, and Eggsy found himself peering down at him.

It was a mistake. He could see the way Harry looked at him, and he found his throat closing up, thick with emotions that had basically already admitted to but he still didn’t fully know how to deal with. 

That was okay. It was an odd realization, but it helped. It didn’t really matter if he knew how to deal with it now, because he could always figure it out the next time. Or the time after that. 

He reached out, snagging the cloth and pulling it from Harry’s fingers. “Come back to bed, you’re not supposed to be straining yourself,” he reminded him.

“You’re going to need your strength for later.”


End file.
